The Fine Line Between Hate and Obsession
by Crow's Oneshots
Summary: It had been years since that horrible day and still he was playing cat and mouse with the one who killed his family... but who was the cat and who was the mouse was hard to tell sometimes. Patrick/Red John


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist**

 **Warnings: Sexual content, masturbation, mentions of slash (m/m)**

 **The Fine Line Between Hate and Obsession**

Jane looked outside the window, his breath fogging up the glass as he breathed in and out in the late night. His eyes closed slightly while he slowly drifted off to sleep. Another woman had come onto him tonight while he was working, getting information from a local bar and once again he had been reminded of how long it had been since he last had sex.

It had been many years now since the loss of his wife and daughter, and he was still no closer to catching Red John than when he first started the hunt. Still he kept his life going, only for the revenge that seemed to escape him around every turn. What was worse was knowing how close the monster was to him. He was no fool, he knew when he was watched and when someone was looking at him, he had always known.

It had taken a few months after he had left the asylum before he knew he was being watched, that there was someone following him. At first he thought it was some reporter wanting another interview, or someone writing another book of killers and wanted to know his take on Red John. But now, now knew who it was that would risk following him, would risk the exposer should he ever mess up.

The gaze had changed as well; at first it was a feeling of being stalked, of someone wanting him to fail and die. Now it was more, it was primal in its need and if they should ever meet gazes he knew that he would be lost. What had started out as a game had done more to the both of them then either of them realized. What had started out as fascination, had turned into the worst kind of obsession.

Breathing against the window, Jane now had his eyes closed. He could feel it now the gaze watched him. The way that it would take in his form, the way that it would leave a burning path as if a lover. He knew he was attractive, his wife bless her soul, had always wondered if he was with someone else with the attention he got on and off the air. He never cheated on her, and he knew that even in death he never would be with another woman.

Kristina Fry had been an experiment, and he was sad to say that it was not to see if he could be with someone else, if he could love someone else. It was an experiment to see how important he was to Red John, Sam Bosco had been killed because they were being kept apart he could understand that. Kristina was killed emotionally because she was in the way of his attention.

Still the gaze was on his body as he stood against the window. What was worse than the fact that the one who killed his family was watching him was the he… Patrick Jane… was getting enjoyment from it. He had always been the kind of man to try and cross the line between what he could and couldn't do. Always living on the edge, and he knew that he was slowly losing at this game.

Eventually one or the other would break, and they would have to give in to their desire; no matter what the cost. Red John would not be the one to lose in a matter of the mind, he would sit back and wait. Eventually they knew that Patrick would come to him, would beg him to be taken and he would; slowly, painfully, he would break his most prized object only to bring him back to break him again.

His hand made its way to the window and Patrick found himself holding his hand out to his enemy. For once, wishing for something more even knowing it was wrong. As his left hand pressed against the window, his right didn't hesitate to reach towards his pants. Before touching himself he was hard, his dick pulsing in anticipation. The only time he could get aroused these days was when he was being watched by _him_.

Somewhere in his mind he knew that he was going to hell for this. His wife would have disapproved and would have left him long ago if she had known. Luckily for him at least, he did not believe in Heaven; he never did, not even when he was little and working at the carnival. But now, now he didn't believe because he didn't want to. Surely there would not be a figure so cruel that it would make this happen to someone, to make them desire the one that is their own personal Devil.

Still his hand started to rub against his crotch, stroking himself through the fabric as he let out a small moan, his forehead pressed against the window. The gaze was still on him, it always was these days. He could feel it getting close to him, waiting for him to give in, to become their owners' personal slave. Slowly he opened his pants with the one hand as he slipped his hand inside, he had been going commando today.

The feeling of his hand against his overheated flesh made him moan out and almost open his eyes, but he knew the game would be over if he did. As his hand moved against himself he brought himself closer and closer to competition. Jane let his moans come out and puff up against the glass that was now the only cool thing on his body. The closer he came the most lost he felt, he was getting off while his enemy watched him, while the killer of his family watched him and it only made him that much hotter.

"Please" He whispered against the glass. He could almost see the smirk on _his_ face, could almost hear his chuckle as he knew what he said. Quickly he came, his cock still inside his pants while his hand became coated in his own sperm. Panting against the glass Patrick brought his hand out now sticky and white, there was sweat against the window. Giving a shivering sigh, he could still feel _his_ eyes against him, judging him. They both knew that it wouldn't be much longer until he cracked, until one day he would give up.

Tonight wasn't that night though, instead he would give a show if the sick bastard was still watching. Lifting his hand, Patrick slowly licked his own essence from his fingers and smirked slightly. He may not be able to see Red John but he knew that the other would enjoy the show. It tasted salty and although he had done many things in his life it was the first time that he willingly licked off his own cum, but he knew that eventually it would be worth it.

Afterwards he shook his head, it wasn't tonight that he would give in, not tonight that he would let the bastard have him… but soon. His only chance at winning this game, was if he and his team got to Red John first. If they made the connections and fit the dots together, then he would win… and he would kill him. If he lost then he would be the one who would be killed over and over again, until his body finally gave in and finished the job.

Jane moved his hand from the window where it was pressed on to keep a grasp of something. With his pants open and cum on his hand, Patrick finally lifted his head from the window and opened his eyes again, he saw nothing. There was nobody visible in the night except his own reflection in the window. Sighing once again he turned from the window and walked into the house, he needed a shower.

With the shower pouring hot water down his body he scrubbed and rinsed until he was red and raw from trying to rid himself of self-hate. The gaze was off of him now, even hardened criminals needed to sleep. He suspected that it wouldn't be back until a little while later, probably in about a week waiting to take him. The only time he could truly find something, some kind of lead was then the eyes weren't on him, weren't watching his every move.

It wouldn't be the first time that Red John had someone in the CBI working for him, and he wouldn't be surprised to find out if someone from his own team was one of _his_ followers. Still he kept most of the information, the files and the clues, that he could find away. Nobody except him knew the hints that he was able to pick up here and there, was able to find in amongst the mass amount of blood and pain.

Someday perhaps, if he could hold out just a bit longer he would be able to use them, to fix what had been done and kill Red John. Putting on his pajamas and laying down on his cot underneath his personal label of the red blood smiley face, Patrick wondered if he would be able to hold out until he could get anything else. It was hard to know at this point, on the one hand he wanted revenge more than anything… on the other he was getting tired with every trick he had to pull he felt like he had age's years off of his life… and perhaps he had.

 _'Just a while longer and it will end… it can all end…'_


End file.
